The Landing Spot
by Alaska829Snow
Summary: Emma can't control her magic; every night it brings her to Regina. "Magic understands what your heart wants, even when your mind doesn't." SwanQueen, obviously.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, my loves. I'm quite excited about this story that simply wouldn't get out of my head. It will either be 2 or 3 chapters. It's already written, just not 100% sure on how I will break it up. Please enjoy! :) Reviews are appreciated. And for those reading my other story I SWEAR I WILL UPDATE IT THIS WEEK. GAH.**

* * *

**Night One: 2:15 AM.**

Regina lay under her covers, limbs weighed down on her bed. Sleep refused to come to her, no matter how hard she willed it. It had been like this since her mother's death and she had given up trying to change it.

Her room was as quiet as it was dark.

But in the space beneath her door and above the ground, she thought she caught the glimpse of a moving shadow.

It was impossible.

No one was there, she told herself.

"Hello?" She called out to the silence, just to make sure. "Hello?"

She wanted to congratulate herself for achieving new levels of pathetic. _Imagining ghosts; imagining her mother sneaking into the room and holding her close. Imagining Henry coming home. _

But just when she was ready to deem herself insane, her door creaked open slowly.

A woman stood in the door-frame—a slender body that was shaking, shivering.

Regina rubbed her eyes; she recognized the woman.

"Ms. Swan?" She asked before panicking and shooting up in bed. There was only_ one _reason Emma could be here; only one thing in the world that brought them together. "Where's Henry? Is he alright?"

"Henry's fine," Emma panted.

Regina observed her son's biological mother barefoot in a simple pair of sweatpants and a tank top. The former-mayor didn't understand, nor was she in the mood for games. She tried, despite her fatigue, to immediately put on her royal mask.

"Here to try to pull off an assassination in the middle of the night? Because, I have to tell you, you're _not_ being very subtle about it."

"I don't...I don't know how I got here."

"Excuse me?"

"It was like your purple smoke," Emma ran her hand through her blonde locks. The stress was apparent on her face—the confusion even more obvious. She looked distraught—she looked more vulnerable than Regina could ever remember seeing her.

"What are you talking about?"

"I was fighting with my parents. I was so pissed. I closed my eyes and there was smoke all around me….next thing I know, I'm standing at the top of your staircase."

"Oh," Regina processed the story. "You got here by magic, then."

"But I didn't mean to!" The blonde yelled. "I wasn't even _trying_ to use magic. It just happened. What the hell is that? What does it mean?"

Regina had an idea about what it _could _mean—but she tried to suppress the flashbacks to her _own_ days as a magic novice, to the words Rumple once told her about the inability to control her power.

She suppressed the notion because she couldn't tell Emma. And in this particular case she knew the only explanation she had to offer was both ridiculous and illogical.

"I'm sure it doesn't mean anything, dear" she lied. "You know that magic is extremely unpredictable in Storybrooke and you're still very much a beginner."

"Right," Emma accepted, feeling slightly comforted by the words—she began to regain her composure.

"You'll learn how to manage it."

"Well, I'm really sorry for the intrusion; I swear it wasn't intentional."

"I assume you remember where the exit is?"

The sheriff frowned and looked at her feet. "Regina, it's _so_ late."

"Indeed it is. Which quite frankly begs the question: why were you fighting with your parents at this hour? Did they catch you sneaking in through the window or something?"

"No, of course not," Emma defended. "_Why_ I was fighting with them is not important."

"Well, my beauty rest _is_. So, as I was saying, you can see yourself out."

"I don't have my car, my legs feel all wobbly and I wouldn't know how to use magic to get back if I tried. Do you think I could just crash in Henry's room?"

Regina wanted to say 'no.'

In fact, she wanted to say '_hell_ no.'

But she quickly reasoned she couldn't take a chance that something might happen to Emma on the way back to the apartment. If it did, Henry would never get over it—and she would, once more, take the blame.

"There's a guestroom two doors down with a bed that's more suited to your size."

"I really appreciate it," Emma mumbled before turning back towards the hallway. "_Good-night, Regina."_

"Try not to break anything," the brunette yelled after her.

* * *

**Night Two: 1:43 AM.**

Regina was awoken by the sound of a loud crash in her hallway. She jumped out of bed and flung her door open.

"Well, that certainly _sounded_ graceful," she remarked as she discovered the savior sprawled out on the floor.

"Fucking magic bullshit," Emma fumed. "I hit my head on your damn wall."

"I don't think it was the fault of _my _wall," Regina retorted. Her sarcasm was quickly replaced with concern when she noticed Emma holding her head with her hands. "Are you alright?"

"I'm_ sorry_! I swear to you that I don't know how to control this."

"Don't move," she firmly instructed. "You're bleeding."

Regina ran to her bathroom and pulled out the first-aid kit from under the sink. Henry had always been an accident-prone child and she had long-ago perfected the routine of bandaging up scrapes and bruises.

Back in the hall, she kneeled down in front of her injured patient and gently wiped the blood off her forehead.

In that moment, she realized how much she missed having someone to take care of. The sheriff seemed so fragile—her hands trembling and body, once again, shaking. Her eyes, giant pools of green, reminded her so much of her son.

"You need to calm down," Regina soothed. "Magical transportation is nothing to be afraid of, you know."

"I just really don't enjoy feeling like I have no say over when I'm going to disappear in a cloud of smoke. I was in the middle of making a damn good point to Mary Margaret."

The queen cringed at the mention of her nemesis. It was an unwelcome reminder of exactly who her son was related to—exactly whose wounds she was currently tending to.

"Life with the royal Charmings must _not_ be so charming if fighting has landed you on the middle of my floor two nights in a row."

The comment was disregarded. "I'm going to look like an asshole with a Band-Aid on my face, right?"

"Yes—but, you look like an asshole most of the time, anyway."

"Thanks a lot," Emma smirked. "You should moonlight as a nurse."

"It's nothing, really. After all, if you bled out in _my_ house, everyone would think I killed you. This is merely self-defense."

"That's true," the younger woman picked herself off the ground. "I'll be in the guest room again, if that's okay."

"Very well. But please take some aspirin before you fall asleep. You're going to have a headache."

Emma nodded._ "Goodnight, Regina."_

"_Goodnight, Emma."_

* * *

The next day Regina set a vase of flowers on the nightstand in the guest room.

She opened the windows to let in some fresh air.

She changed the sheets and fixed up the bedspread.

She hadn't been particularly surprised to find that Emma Swan's attempt to make the bed had been an utter failure.

She made a mental note to lecture the savior on proper house-guest etiquette when she returned that night.

But Emma _didn't _come that night.

Or the night after that.

Regina cursed herself for watching the clock, for listening closely for the sound of footsteps in the hallway.

She didn't want to acknowledge that she was disappointed when she heard _nothing._

She blamed it on the empty house.

_It wasn't about Emma_, she told herself.

She was just bored.

She was just lonely.

She just missed having company.

She just missed Henry.

She just missed her mother.

_It wasn't about the words Rumpelstiltskin had once told her._

_It wasn't about Emma._

* * *

**Night Three: 12:37 AM.**

Regina sat up in bed reading a book in an futile attempt to distract her mind from wandering.

She briefly flinched when Emma appeared in a cloud of purple smoke in the middle of her bedroom. The savior stood shell-shocked, holding her toothbrush and wearing nothing but her underwear.

"Fuck," the blonde exclaimed. "_Seriously?"_

"Three whole days without a fight," Regina stated apathetically, without looking up from the page she was reading, "how impressive."

"I thought I had my magic under control—apparently, I do not."

"Have you ever considered investing in your _own _place? It could save us all a lot of trouble."

"My parents are pretty attached to the notion of us making up for lost time, or whatever."

"Right," Regina glanced up for the first time and took in the vision before her. She couldn't control the smile that crept onto her face. "Do you _usually _fight half-naked with a toothbrush in your hand?"

"Pretty intimidating, huh?"

"Yes, I'm quite frightened of your boy-short underpants."

"To be honest, I actually wasn't even fighting with them tonight. I was literally standing in my bathroom thinking...I was just thinking about my fucked up life and I got angry and now I'm here _again_."

"Well, would you like to borrow some clothes?"

"Yeah—that would probably be good."

Regina got up and walked over to her closet. She pulled out a pair of blue silk pajamas and handed them to her guest.

"Matching colors," Emma pointed to Regina's own attire as she stepped into the pants and buttoned up the top. "This feels _just_ like a slumber party."

"Please feel free to freeze to death if you'd prefer not to wear them."

"I thought we already established it's not in your best interest for me to die in this house."

"Ah, that's right. Well, then—do whatever you please, _princess."_

_"_I'm pretty sure I'm the most useless princess in the universe considering I keep vanishing into thin air."

"Yes," Regina chuckled. "I could imagine that might be a small issue."

"Hey," Emma lowered her voice, sounding suddenly serious, "can I….um, can I ask you something?"

The brunette nodded, giving the savior the go-ahead.

"Every time this happens, I get closer to you."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"The first night I ended up at the top of your staircase. The second night I ended up right outside your door. Tonight, I ended up _inside_ your room."

Regina hadn't recognized the pattern until it was pointed out. The notion made her panic, and she _felt _her face turn pale. "It's like I already told you, magic is unpredictable."

"Bullshit," Emma called her bluff. "You're not telling me something. I know you and I know you're hiding something. So what is it? Am I like a magic fuck-up? Is something bad going to happen to me?"

"No, it's nothing like that. It's just that…I had a similar experience once. I'd rather not relive it and I'm certain it doesn't relate to your case."

"Can you please just tell me? I'm freaking myself out here. _Please_?"

Regina sighed and considered the request. She knew that Emma was, if nothing else, persistent. She saw no way out but to tell the truth. "After Daniel died and I became Queen, I started learning magic from Rumple. I was a beginner then, too. Whenever I would get angry, or frustrated, or upset I would magically transport myself to the stables without meaning to. After this happened about five times I decided to ask Rumple what the hell was going on."

"What did he say?"

"He said magic is _emotional_ and I was transporting myself to where my heart's deepest desire was. I kept insisting that the stables were the_ last_ place on earth that I wanted to be- I told him I was completely focused on revenge. He said magic understands what your heart wants, even when your mind doesn't."

"Oh," Emma digested the words, "well that's…"

"Henry," Regina spat out, desperately. "You associate this house with Henry. It's where you first met him; it's the place he grew up. It makes sense, if you think about it."

"That's probably true."

An awkward silence filled the air for what seemed like an eternity before the queen spoke up. "Your room is waiting for you."

"I should probably start paying rent," Emma joked, attempting to ease the tension.

"You couldn't afford it, anyway."

The savior walked towards the door. But before she left the room, she had one last thing to say. "You know, your theory would be more believable if Henry wasn't under the same roof as me whenever this happens. I mean, if my heart is aching for _him_ so badly...why would it bring me to _you_?"

Regina didn't have the answer.

So, she simply ignored the question.

_"Good-night, Emma." _

"_Good-night, Regina." _


	2. Chapter 2

**You guys are the best! Thank you for all the sweet reviews (I will reply to them tomorrow!) and follows. I am SO glad you like the premise. Because of your fabulous reaction, I've decided this story may just make it to four parts. I hope this next chapter lives up to your expectations.  
**

* * *

Regina's mundane afternoon routine was interrupted by the sound of her doorbell ringing. She floated down her staircase in her purple dress and black boots. She knew it frankly didn't make a difference what she wore these days, but her appearance was one of the very few things she still had control over.

She opened the door to find none other than Emma Swan standing on her porch, sheepishly leaning against the tall white pillar.

"Do my eyes deceive me, Ms. Swan, or are you actually_ outside_ my house in the _daylight_?"

"It's a nice change of pace, isn't it?"

"Yes, I was starting to think you were some sort of nocturnal animal."

The joke earned her a smile from the blonde who stood up straight and held out a Styrofoam cup. "I brought you coffee."

Regina accepted the gift but eyed it suspiciously, as if she expected it to implode in her hands. "And _why_ is that?"

"To say 'thank you' for giving me a clean set of sheets every night and not charging me that super-high rent you were talking about. I've been enjoying my stay at Hotel Regina and you didn't leave me a comment card or anything…"

"How thoughtful of you." The statement came out somewhat sarcastically, though she hadn't intended it to. Somewhere along the way, she had forgotten how to express genuine appreciation. _Queens don't need to show appreciation to anyone. _

She was momentarily worried Emma would think she was ungrateful—the sheriff, however, seemed unfazed.

"Also, um, I was wondering...do you want to see Henry today?"

"Is this a joke?" She spit out without thinking—revealing the side of her that still believed Emma's recent and strange behavior was part of a grand scheme to trick her.

"No—look, the kid misses you. And, despite what other people are telling me, I know you're not a danger to him. I mean, I figure you've had a lot of chances to kill me in my sleep and you haven't."

"Yet," Regina quipped. "Maybe I'm just waiting until you least suspect it."

It was a challenge—she was out-right daring the savior to agree with the majority of people who believed her son, _their son_, was better off without the woman who raised him.

"Maybe," Emma shrugged. "But it's a chance I'm willing to take...like I said, Henry wants to see you."

Regina cleared her throat, determined not to let her vulnerability rise to the surface. "You _know_ I want to see him, too."

"Pick him up from school later?"

"I will."

"And, hey, maybe I'll see you tonight."

"Would you like a mint on your pillow?"

"Two," Emma requested. She turned away, fumbled her keys in her fingers and headed towards her car. "I have a big appetite."

As Regina watched her walk away, she thought that maybe it _was _a trick; maybe when she showed up at Henry's school she would be faced with angry members of Team Charming—they would lock her up and throw away the key….just like they had years ago.

And maybe she would kill Emma while she slept comfortably in the guest room.

It was abundantly clear that although these concrete possibilities were forever present and hanging over them- neither woman felt any real sense of danger.

_Regina had saved Emma's life. Emma had saved Regina's life. _

An underlying trust existed between them; an unexplainable sense of safety that truly had no logical foundation, no reason it should exist at all.

But it kept on existing, anyway.

* * *

"_Goddamn it,"_ Emma hissed in frustration.

She was locked in her bathroom trying to make her magic work. But, as usual, her magic wasn't listening to anything she had to say.

_She couldn't stop thinking about Regina Mills. And she needed to. She needed to stop because it would ruin everything. Or maybe it would fix everything. No. She needed to stop. She needed to stop right now. _

At least, she knew, she had made the right call allowing Henry to see his mom. He came home smelling like a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. After dinner he had quietly babbled on about how much fun they had together—about how much fun she was.

Emma agreed wholeheartedly: Regina _was_ fun—which was quite odd. It was certainly not a word she would've used to describe the mayor six months ago. But six months had turned her world upside down. And if her dad could be Prince Charming and her son could be related to Rumpelstiltskin—who said the Evil Queen_ couldn't_ turn out to be little less evil than everyone thought?

Despite the fact that they had spent three nights under the same roof, Emma realized they still hadn't talked about anything real. She didn't know if it was even possible for them to have a real conversation, but she knew where she wanted to be tonight.

And it wasn't this apartment.

_Magic understands what your heart wants, even when your mind doesn't._

That statement was a load of crap, she was sure.

_But so was the curse before it wasn't—before it transformed from a load of crap into her reality. _

She was_ trying_ to get angry so she could end up at the mansion, but she was panicking instead. And panic, apparently, wasn't accomplishing anything. Panic wasn't fueling her power—it wasn't sending her to Regina.

Maybe, she thought, if she picked a fight she could make herself get angry.

She realized the perfect bait was only a few feet away.

She walked into the kitchen and spotted her mother hovering over the sink doing the dishes.

"Hey, Mary Margaret," she barked, announcing her presence, "_fuck you_."

"Emma!" Snow White snapped her head around, clearly stunned by the outburst.

"Go fuck yourself," she repeated.

"What's _wrong_ with you?"

The savior didn't feel herself getting angry. In fact, the only thing she felt was embarrassed. "This is useless. _I'm_ useless."

"Emma?!" Her mother ran closer to her. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry! My magic works when we fight or when I'm angry at someone."

"So you think it's acceptable to curse at me like that? What's gotten into you lately?"

"Calm down, okay? It wasn't _real_. I'm trying to learn how to control it myself, instead of it happening spontaneously. I think that's kind of important, don't you?"

The explanation seemed to relax Snow, who furrowed her brow at her daughter's perplexing situation. "Maybe Gold can help you?"

"Uh—no, thank you. Gold's magical mystery tour into the memories of a _dog _is what technically got us all into the latest Storybrooke fiasco."

"But, sweetheart, that was _Cora's_ fault—not Gold's."

"Whatever; I still don't trust him. I just need my magic to work right now. I just need…"

"Emma," Mary Margaret interrupted, "_why_ are you wearing make-up?"

"Huh?"

"You're wearing make-up at 11:30 at night—make-up that you weren't wearing earlier today."

"Stop staring at me like that," Emma stepped away from her mother's interrogating glance, "you're imagining things."

"Where _exactly_ have you been going when you vanish in a cloud of what looks way too much like Regina's magic?"

"Nowhere important."

"Then _why_ are you trying to get there so badly right now?"

Emma despised how Mary Margaret was gifted with such a strong maternal instinct. The sheriff felt as though the woman who sent her through a magical portal and had missed the first 27 years of her life didn't _deserve _to be so damn good at motherhood. It was infuriating that Snow already knew her daughter well enough that Emma couldn't get away with lying.

"I have to go," she declared, abruptly ending the conversation. Maybe she couldn't lie, but that didn't mean she had to tell the truth, either. "I'll be back."

"_When_?"

The apartment door slammed shut before the question was answered.

* * *

**Night 4: 11:48 PM**

Emma stood on Regina's porch for the second time that day. But, this time, she had no intentions of ringing the bell.

She still had the spare key Henry had given her 'just in case.'

_It wasn't breaking and entering if she had a key. Who was going to arrest her, anyway? Who would believe the savior was at fault for breaking into the house of the Evil Queen? No one. Absolutely no one. _

She opened the front door quietly praying she wouldn't get caught; she climbed the stairs begging the floorboards not to creak and give her away.

When she made it to the top she stood anxiously in the hallway. It was then she realized she hadn't thought this plan through in the slightest.

She couldn't just barge into the mayor's bedroom.

She couldn't make her magic get her to the other side of the door.

She couldn't admit she had let herself in.

Before she had time to figure it out, her problem was solved.

Regina swung her bedroom door open and entered the hallway.

"_Emma_," the queen spoke her visitor's name, wearing nothing but two towels—one wrapped around her body, the other tied on top of her head.

"Hi," she replied, hypnotized by the drops of water clinging to the brunette's toned shoulders.

"You're early tonight. But at least you remembered pants."

Emma exhaled in relief and wondered why Regina wasn't asking more questions about why she was early or what had caused her to arrive. But she wasn't going to push it. She was just happy to get away with the most ridiculous behavior she had ever engaged in.

"That makes one of us."

"This is _my _house, dear. I'm allowed to not wear pants. Now, if you'll excuse me….I was headed towards the bathroom."

* * *

When Regina walked back into her room, now dressed in her pajamas, she found Emma Swan on her bed.

She didn't know who the hell the savior thought she was. This wasn't her bedroom. She didn't belong here. And she certainly hadn't been invited to sit with her legs crossed on top of the blankets.

"Henry had fun today," Emma commented as if she knew she was in trouble; bringing up their common ground was a surefire way to avoid a scolding.

"I'm glad," Regina allowed her to get away with it, "so did I."

"Listen, I was thinking…..I should….I want to apologize for what happened between us."

"Alright," she accepted, coldly.

She wasn't sure what Emma was doing. _This wasn't part of their routine_. They did better when they avoided awkward conversations—when they ignored the elephant in the room.

"I should've known you didn't kill Archie. I _did_ know, actually. I just let everything get out of hand."

"_That's_ what you're apologizing for?"

"Of course. It's overdue and I..."

"I do not accept_ that_ apology," Regina interrupted, "nor is it the one I was expecting."

"What are you talking about?"

"My mother framed me—no one could blame you for thinking I was guilty. But even after you knew I was innocent, you failed to do anything about it. You could've told me. But instead you ran off without so much as a word about why you were taking my son to New York. And, to top it all off, you said I was a bad person—and you said it in front of Henry. Sometimes I honestly do not know what goes through your head—sometimes I wonder if anything at all goes through it, actually."

"I just…"

"What makes me such a bad person? Huh? Because I assure you, you _don't_ know what you're talking about."

"You came barging into Mr. Gold's shop and tried to choke me! You were going to let your mother become the Dark One."

"Because _you_ made it an ultimatum when you told me I couldn't see my son," the queen felt her infamous rage return, threatening to come oozing out of her. "You made me think there was only one option: Henry with me or Henry with you! It didn't have to be like that. I was _trying_ to make it work with both of us in his life."

She waited for the sheriff to fight back, as she notoriously did. But Emma looked small and helpless sitting on the bed.

"You're right, I did do that," she said, quietly. "It's been…all of this has been so overwhelming...I feel so… I just hate it. I don't know what I'm thinking half of the time, _either_. I don't know what the hell am I doing. All I know is that it feels like someone is strangling me to death."

Emma's breathing quickened and became labored; her face turned pale. Regina noticed a tint of purple in her pupils, evidence of the magic stored within her body.

"What's wrong? Why are you breathing like that?"

Emma didn't respond—instead, she brought her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly.

"What's happening?"

"I can't breathe," she choked out. "My throat feels like it's closing."

"It's not," Regina sat down on the bed and gently placed her hand on the savior's back. "It's just an anxiety attack- and having one simply to get me to accept your apology seems a little over-dramatic, don't you think?"

It was unclear why Emma seemed to relax at her touch—why her breathing calmed as the result of the queen's presence. _Why everything seemed immediately better when they were merely inches from each other. _

"I _am_ sorry. I know you're not a bad person, Regina. I _know_ that."

"Let's just forget it and move on?"

"Thank you."

"You know, you never told me what it is that's causing tension with your parents. Is _that_ what's bothering you?"

"It's just an incredibly awkward situation. I mean, my parents are the same age as me and they're smothering me like I'm six years old. We fight over so much that I'm starting to lose track."

''It's confusing," Regina offered, "when you've been alone for so long, to suddenly _not _be."

She remembered the feeling well—the feeling she got when baby Henry was in her arms. Her years of solitude came to a crashing and abrupt end. And it had, in fact, confused her-that someone, anyone, could be so dependent on her every move.

"I guess I shouldn't complain. I waited my whole life to feel like I was wanted and now that I have this family…."

"It feels almost like it's too much too soon?"

"Exactly. Plus, with Neal in town everything is ten times more complicated."

"Henry was telling me_ all _about his father today."

"I'm glad Henry's happy—I guess I'm even glad he knows his father—but I _hate_ that Neal is in Storybrooke."

"Why?"

"Did you ever just want to run away from a part of your life and pretend it never happened?"

"Have we _met_? I cursed an entire kingdom for that specific purpose. Spoiler alert: you can't escape the past. Turns out everyone _I_ wanted to escape from makes up my son's family tree."

"Well, even if I can't escape him, that doesn't mean I have to forgive him… right?"

"I don't know. I'm not exactly an expert on forgiveness—or we wouldn't be here, would we?"

"I'm still angry at him—he let me rot in prison because August told him it was a good idea. I don't want to see him. I didn't ask for this—I didn't ask for any of this."

"At least….at least Henry came out that situation."

"I know," Emma agreed, her eyes wandering to the television where a commercial was playing in the background. "What are you watching?"

"Law and Order."

"I love this show. I could get sucked in for all eternity."

"One Saturday at the beginning of the curse, I watched television for six hours straight because it was so enchanting."

Emma chuckled at the mental image. "Why did I never realize that you're so….?"

"So _what_?" Regina questioned, preparing herself to be insulted. "Spit it out."

"Down to earth."

She was taken aback by the phrase—it was one she had never heard someone use to describe her before. But, she recovered quickly. "I guess you were a little distracted chopping down my tree and running around with walkie-talkies."

"While you were distracted framing my mother for murder."

"Fair enough."

"So I guess we were both just a little too busy to notice."

"Notice what?"

"How much we have in common."

This, she found, was much harder to recover from. Because it wasn't as though Regina hadn't thought about it herself.

_The trouble childhoods, the complex parental relationships, the loss of love at a young age, the abandonment issues, the desire to be free from expectations. _

She used to think it was bitterly ironic how much she had in common with the woman who broke her curse. Now, she was wondering, if it was _something else_ entirely.

Fortunately, she was saved by Emma's enthusiasm. "Oh!" The blonde shrieked as the television program resumed. "This is_ such_ a good episode."

Regina heard the words _"go watch it somewhere else"_ enter into her mind. But the phrase wouldn't escape her throat.

The two women sat in silence watching.

Regina was the first to doze off.

Emma realized she could've moved to the guest-room.

_She had already pretended she arrived by magic; she might as well pretend their sleeping arrangement was an accident, too. _

If Emma_ had_ made it to the guest-room that night, she would've found two mints waiting for her on her pillow. She would've seen _just_ how down-to-earth Regina Mills really was.

But instead, Emma pulled the covers over her body, not surprised it was the most comfortable bed she had ever been in.

She couldn't even say she was surprised by how good Regina smelt.

What did surprise her was how she couldn't stop herself from inching closer to the woman's form.

Before she closed her eyes she whispered, _"Good-night, Regina."_

A half-asleep queen mumbled back, _"Good-night, Emma."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi, you guys! I apologize for the minor delay in posting. It was not intentional. Work got crazy and I wanted to edit before I uploaded. Will you accept my apology? - said like Regina Mills to Emma Swan outside Granny's diner.**_  
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**Moving on, this is your update! I hope you all enjoy it! 3 **

* * *

_Emma was always gone in the morning. _

Regina didn't blame her. In fact, she preferred it. It was a much better arrangement. It was better that they both carried on with their day, _pretending that the ground wasn't shifting beneath their feet. _

She walked downstairs, more than ready for a cup of coffee—she could already feel the dark-roast blend entering her system and rousing her from her drowsy state.

But when she made it to the kitchen—she discovered an incredible anomaly: _Emma wasn't gone this morning. _

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm just earning my stay," Emma explained when she turned around. She stood over the oven, still wearing Regina's pajamas; her blonde locks were tossed lazily on top of her head.

The former-mayor looked at the clutter on her counter: a carton of eggs, a tub of butter, salt, pepper, forks and napkins. Everything completely scattered.

"And yet it seems you've only made a bigger mess for me to clean up. There is no maid-service at this 'hotel,' dear."

"I'll clean it up, I promise."

"Henry specifically said you don't know _how_ to cook." Regina hovered over the savior's shoulder, examining the contents of her frying pan.

"He did? What a little tattle-tale."

"Does it really count as tattling if it's just stating a simple fact?"

"It's true that I can't cook much, but I can handle breakfast if I really put my mind to it."

"I think I'll be the judge of that."

"Go ahead, it won't kill you," Emma held out a fork full of scrambled eggs. "At least, I don't think."

Regina took a step closer and allowed Emma to feed her. She chewed slowly and deliberately, never breaking eye-contact with the self-proclaimed chef.

"You pass," she finally declared. "I guess you won't have to sleep outside."

"What a relief."

Neither woman backed off, all too comfortable with the lack of space between them. Regina stared at Emma—whose attention seemed to be entirely focused on the brunette's lips.

"Do I have something on my face?"

"No. It's just…I h-have to go to work," Emma stuttered through the statement. "I'm already late."

"Of course," she finally stepped away.

"I don't think I can leave the house in this outfit. And I came here in my underwear."

Regina's only response was to flick her wrist in the sheriff's direction; magic quickly transformed her into her usual work attire.

"Hey," Emma stared in awe, "you even got my badge on my belt."

"Yes, well, magic is quite handy when you can actually use it correctly."

"Thanks—and I'll see you soon?"

"I don't really think I have a choice in the matter. Do I?"

"Nope, sorry—and neither do I."

It was a necessary charade—an act they both wanted to continue putting on: the idea that they had no say in what was happening to them. _Magic was the culprit._

Emma took her leave and Regina was left alone in her kitchen.

"You forgot to clean up!" she yelled, fully aware her guest was already gone. She rolled her eyes and added, _"Spoiled brat." _

She was grateful no one was around to see the grin that accompanied the insult.

* * *

**Night Five: 3:56 AM**

Regina woke up gasping for breath—she coughed as purple smoke engulfed the air around her. She flailed her hands, trying to clear her vision.

When the smoke dissipated, Emma occupied the left side of her bed.

"Jesus Christ," Regina wheezed, her eyes watering. "Are you trying to give me asthma?"

"I'm sorry!"

It took her a moment to process the fact that she was awake. Tonight, she felt her patience wearing thin. "_I'm _sleeping."

"I just appeared in your _bed_," Emma stated the obvious, as if it was too ludicrous to be true.

"Yes, that's a new one."

"It certainly fucking is. It's a softer landing than the floor, at least"

"We can discuss your latest magical spasm tomorrow. It's too late for this," the queen glanced at the alarm-clock, "or maybe I should say it's too early."

"Does magic travel make you dizzy? It always makes me so discombobulated."

"I guess we're discussing it now," she sat up slightly. "It used to make my dizzy, it doesn't anymore."

"I couldn't fall asleep—there needs to be a damn off switch for my mind."

"When this happens do you _ever_ go anywhere else?"

"No," Emma admitted. "Just here."

"And it _only_ happens when you start feeling…"

"Any sort of really intense emotion, I guess."

"If your emotions are this intense every night maybe you should consider a visit to Dr. Hopper."

"Can I make a confession?"

"Would it really stop you if I said _no_?"

"I don't like that this is happening to me. But I kind of like hanging out with you."

Regina was silent. _Emma needed to stop breaking all the rules. _She needed to stop changing the game. First, breakfast-and now…now this.

"Are you going to say anything?" The savior pushed.

"You clearly need more therapy than I first thought."

"I think you like it, too—having me here."

_The game wasn't fun anymore. Now it was just dangerous. And she didn't know if she wanted to keep playing. _

"It is your duty to hate me. And a princess always honors her duty."

"Yeah," Emma agreed. "But you should hate me, too."

"Who said I don't?"

"You did just now-when you didn't deny the fact that you like when I'm here."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you talk way too much?"

"You can talk too, you know."

"About_ what_?"

"Do you want a pre-approved list of subjects or something? You can talk about anything. I'm saying that I'll listen."

"I'm tired."

"What a deep and heart-felt revelation, Regina" Emma sarcastically replied. "Thank you for sharing that groundbreaking information."

"Emma, I am begging you to stop. I was woken from a deep sleep by an uninvited visitor who plopped herself in the middle of my bed. Is it _really_ too much to ask you to just shut the hell up for one night?"

"Alright, forget it," Emma smirked, clearly amused by the outburst, "Queen cranky-pants."

"Yes, excuse me for being tired at nearly four in the morning; not all of us can function on the sleeping schedule of a teenager."

"Being a bitch _now _is not going to erase how nice you've been to me lately… you realize that—right?"

"I do _hate_ you, you know."

"Yeah, okay," the blonde rejected the entirely unconvincing declaration. "I hate you, too."

"_Goodnight, Emma." _

"_Goodnight, Regina."_

* * *

Emma wouldn't seem to wake up.

It wasn't all that surprising, considering how late she had been awake.

Regina decided it was best to let the savior sleep it off—she remembered how draining it had been for her to learn magic—how it required all of her energy and strength. And despite how irritable she had been the previous night, her empathy for Emma remained unchanged.

She heard light footsteps climbing her staircase, followed immediately by the sound of her son's voice.

"Mom?" He called out before appearing in the doorframe.

"Honey—I wasn't expecting you."

Her first reaction was joy—she was always happy when he came to see her. But as she watched his eyes shoot to her bed, she felt an entirely different emotion: _fear._

"Is that….Emma?" He ran into the bedroom, towards his other mother's sleeping form. "What's happening?"

Regina froze.

She wasn't prepared for this confrontation.

Henry's biological mother—_the one she had once tried to kill_—was asleep in her bed.

She could hardly explain it to herself—she certainly did not have the words to explain it to him.

"Kid," Emma mumbled, barely lifting her head from the pillow, "I love you—but it's still sleep-time."

"What's wrong with her?" He asked Regina, with a slightly accusatory tone.

"Emma's just exhausted, Henry. She hasn't been sleeping well lately."

"But what is she doing _here_?"

Regina looked to Emma, desperate for assistance—but the blonde had already pulled the covers back over her head, disengaging herself from the conversation entirely.

"She's been having some problems with magic."

"Emma's using magic?"

"Well," Regina bent down to meet his eye-line, "she's not doing it on purpose."

"What are you talking about?" The frustration was apparent in his strained voice. He had made his feelings about magic quite clear when he tried to blow it up. "What's going on?"

"Emma's the savior, sweetheart—you know she has the magic of true love within her. That's how she saved you and that's why my mother couldn't take her heart. But her magic is so strong that it's difficult for her to control—especially because she waited 28 years to use it."

"But she's okay? Will it hurt her?"

"No, it won't. She just needs help, that's all."

"And _you're _helping her?"

"I am."

"Oh," Henry nodded, "okay."

Regina frowned, sensing his skepticism. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Believe her," Emma slurred as she peeked out from the blankets and stretched her arms. "She's the only one who _has_ been helping even though I've been a huge pain in her ass. I promise, if you _just _let me go back to sleep now, I will tell you the whole story over dinner later. Deal?"

"Okay, deal," Henry accepted, satisfied with the joint explanation. He looked to Regina and embraced her in a hug. "Thanks for helping her."

"You're welcome."

"Oh," he glanced up at her, without breaking his grip. "I came to ask you if I could come over after school again today?"

"You don't have to ask to come home."

"Cool," he said. "I have to catch the bus now."

"Okay," she reluctantly let him go. "Have a good day!"

She missed him the moment she heard the front door close. His visit had made one thing clear—she wanted there to be a day when Henry believed she was doing something good without having to hear it from a secondary source, without having to see it for himself.

"_Regina,"_ Emma's moan broke her train of thought.

"What is it, dear? Don't like people talking when you're trying to sleep? I cannot possibly imagine how _annoying_ that must be. Oh _wait_….I don't have to imagine, that was my life last night."

"Come back here," the blonde ignored the rant and patted the spot next to her in bed.

Regina was sure she had heard and seen incorrectly. Maybe this whole experience was a dream. Maybe she was under a sleeping curse. Maybe she was dead and this was her hell.

But if it _was_ hell, she was sure she wouldn't be enjoying it so much. Unless that was the deeper, darker twist: damned to an eternity of false hope—of a strangely comforting limbo that would never transform to reality.

"It's morning," she managed to utter, "the time when _adults_ get up."

"I don't care," Emma demanded. "Come back."

"Why?" The brunette choked out, exposing her confusion.

"Because you're _warm_ and I'm cold."

She didn't know why, but she laughed out loud.

The irony was evidently lost on the fatigued woman. Because they were, at any given time, complete opposites._ If Regina was warm, Emma was cold. If Regina was high, Emma was low. If Regina was dark, Emma was light._

And yet, the explanation worked. She gave in—she climbed back into bed.

She felt the bare skin of Emma's leg touch her own. She felt the savior's arm drape around her waist.

Emma was obviously delirious—the combination of magic and sleep deprivation finally taking its toll. Regina reasoned she must not have any idea what she was doing. She was so tired she had no idea _who_ she was holding onto.

Regina closed her eyes. It had been a long time since she felt this close to anyone.

_She was definitely in hell_.

* * *

Henry had come over after school just as he had promised. When the doorbell rang at 5:35 PM, he shouted "Emma's here!" and ran to answer it. Regina followed slowly behind him.

She quickened her pace, however, when she heard her son excitedly exclaim the word _"dad."_

She watched Henry throw his arms around his father and then run off to the car with nothing more than a simple wave good-bye.

_And then she came face to face with Neal. _

"Where's Emma?" She questioned, without so much as greeting the man. "She was supposed to pick him up."

"She's stuck at the station-something about a fender-bender."

"It's unclear to me why that means Henry goes home with you instead?"

"Well, from what I understand..."

"_You_ understand nothing," she interrupted him with a fierce tone. "I don't know who gave you permission to have a say in anything, quite frankly."

"Look, I'm just following instructions. Mary-Margaret told me to come pick him up. And I was under the impression that Henry doesn't stay over here anymore."

The decree from her nemesis delivered to her by a complete stranger sent her over the edge. She could feel the fire within her begging to come out.

"Emma can sleep in my bed, but Henry _can't_ stay in the room he grew up in? Yes, of course, there's that_ infamous _Charming family logic I've come to know oh so well."

"What did you just say?"

She looked at the man standing in front of her and thought Henry looked nothing like him—her son was all Emma. And what Neal had put the savior through was entirely unacceptable.

She just couldn't stop herself from picturing Emma locked up in a prison cell—Regina knew exactly what that was like.

The _fragile_ Emma Swan—the one who she had talked out of a panic attack, the one whose arm was draped around her waist earlier that morning.

She pictured an innocent young girl who had done nothing wrong—who had not expected to be abandoned, despite that it was all she had ever known.

She pictured a scared young woman holding a pregnancy test in her hands, Henry growing inside of her.

And she knew in that moment that she wanted nothing more than to _murder_ Neal.

She wanted drive her hand into his chest, rip out his heart and crush it.

He didn't deserve to breathe the same air as Emma Swan—let alone have rights to their son.

She hadn't felt anger like this in a long time.

_It was the same type of anger she felt over Daniel's death._

_The same type of anger she felt whenever Henry was threatened. _

_It was the anger she felt when she needed to protect the ones she loved. _

_The ones she loved._

_But it had nothing to do with Emma Swan._

"Forget it," she hissed, "just get the hell out of here."

"You shouldn't be angry at me for not taking care of him," Neal defended himself. "I didn't even know he existed."

"And _why_ is that again, you _worthless_ lost boy?"

"Excuse me?"

"You let Emma go to prison for _your _crimes. You're just as disgusting and cowardly as your father-and that's a pretty difficult task to accomplish."

Regina slammed the door in his face, ending the conversation before she let it, or her fury, go any further.

* * *

Emma had spent two hours trying to sort out the details of a car accident in town. All she wanted was to eat dinner and watch television in peace. But when she walked into the apartment, she found her mother sitting at the kitchen table, looking disturbingly serious.

"We need to talk," Mary Margaret announced.

"What's up?" She nonchalantly replied, as she opened the refrigerator.

"It seems that Neal had a little run-in with Regina today."

Emma quickly spun around, failing to hide her horror. "About _what_?"

"She wasn't too happy that he picked Henry up."

"You sent _Neal _to her house?"

"Well, I certainly wasn't going to go."

"You should've sent David or Ruby or anyone else. She doesn't even know Neal. How did you expect her to react? I have to go call her."

"Wait a minute," Snow stopped her. "That's where you've been going, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Your magic- it sends you to Regina's house?"

She knew there was no point in lying. Henry had seen it –and she wasn't going to ask him to cover for them. As much as she wanted to keep hiding it, she knew it was only a matter of time before she was caught red handed.

"Yes."

"To her _bedroom_?"

"What?" Emma repeated.

"I don't know. Apparently that's the feeling Neal got from their conversation."

"And instead of speaking to me about it, he went running to my mommy?"

"He's worried about you spending time with her."

"He needs to stop because it's not his damn job to worry about me."

"Well, it _is _mine. And I need you to answer the question."

Emma's mind was spinning, trying to keep up with the conversation. "What _was_ the question, again?"

"When your magic gets out of control do you end up in Regina's bedroom?"

"Yes."

"Oh my God," her mother gasped, "_Emma."_

"What? I can't control it. And she's actually been really nice about it."

Snow looked down at her hands and took a deep breath. "Do you love her?"

"Why would you even ask that?"

"Because, believe it or not, I know a little something about magic."

"So," Emma sheepishly continued, "you know about the whole 'heart's deepest desire' theory?"

"Yes, I do. How do _you_ know?"

"Regina told me."

"What did she say about it?"

"That it doesn't apply to my situation, obviously."

"Do you love her?"

"No," she firmly declared.

But she thought to herself: _Maybe_._ I don't know. It's possible._

"Neal said that Regina knew what happened between the two of you—that he's the reason you went to jail. You talk to her about that kind of stuff? You _like_ going over there? And spending time with her?"

"Sometimes."

_Yes. All the time. Every night. I broke into her house when I thought I wouldn't be able to see her. And I'm pretty sure I begged her to cuddle with me this morning. _

"You know this won't end well for any of us, right?"

"Or maybe it will end well for everyone. She is still Henry's mom. I don't see the issue with me getting along with her."

"Is that what this is all about, then? Giving Henry a family? Because he already has one with _us_. And his father cares about you."

"There's a damn good reason I lied to Henry about his father. He's not trustworthy."

_He took the easy way out. He left me the first chance he had. I loved him and he threw it all away. I won't make the same mistake this time. _

"But, Regina? Suddenly you trust her?"

"I do."

_More than anyone in this damn town.  
_

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just do."

_Because she's always there. _

The statement seemed strange on the surface. Yes, Regina had tried to kill her once. And the queen had unquestionably lost her way when Cora showed up—but Emma knew they came together when it mattered most. It started with Henry…but now…now it was something more.

_She was starting to think they were something more._

She felt light-headed. And then, suddenly: _poof._

Mary-Margaret was left alone in her apartment.

She stared at purple smoke.

Her daughter was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, guys: last chapter! I had so much fun writing this and I was seriously overwhelmed by the response. Thank you to each and every reader and reviewer. I love Swen beyond words. Also, s****pecial shout out to Tohrment222 who requested a shower scene ;) I just couldn't resist. Enjoy! And one more week until the end of hiatus! Yay!**

* * *

**Night Six: 9:34 PM. **

Before the smoke cleared, Emma felt a sturdy stream of water pounding down on her head. The heavy cloud that surrounded her did nothing to prevent her from getting utterly soaked. She momentarily wondered if her magic had finally screwed her over; if she was about to drown in the middle of Storybrooke's lake.

But when she regained her vision, she realized exactly where she was.

She openly gaped at a stark naked Regina; because they were _both_ in the shower.

The brunette shrieked at the top of her lungs and yelled _"get out!" _

But Emma was immobile—too intoxicated by the beauty before her.

"_Emma!" _Regina's hand covered the blonde's eyes as she continued to shout. _"Get the hell out of my shower!" _

Emma climbed out without as much as a word. She grabbed a towel from the counter and walked out of the bathroom. As she tread down the hallway, water dripped onto the mayor's spotless carpet—but Emma was oblivious.

By now she knew her way around Regina's room as well as her own. She opened the closet doors and searched through the garments, looking for something dry she could put on. She settled on the same pair of blue silk pajamas she had already worn. She changed and sat herself down on the bed, feeling faintly numb to it all.

After what seemed like an eternity, Regina came storming into the room in her robe. "Do you know how infuriating it is to not be able to have a single moment of privacy in your _own_ home?"

The savior was silent.

"Oh, that's lovely," the tirade continued, "I see you just help yourself to_ my_ clothes now. This entire situation is getting out of hand! For God's sake Emma, I was merely trying to take a shower."

Again, Emma failed to respond.

"What is wrong with you? Did you lose the ability to speak?"

"Regina," she finally whispered, "it's not about the house."

"What?"

"The magic doesn't bring me to the house—it brings me to you. I end up wherever you are. This obviously isn't about Henry."

"That's not true," The queen steadfastly professed, holding her arms across her body.

"Do you have another explanation?"

"Not at the moment, but there _has_ to be one. I'm sure of it."

Emma wished there _was _another explanation—but it seemed less and less likely. She thought about the concerned look on Mary Margaret's face, and she couldn't stop herself from asking: "Regina, do I love you?"

"No, I promise you, you do not."

"Are you sure? Because the evidence seems to be building that I do."

"Well, I certainly hope that is not the case."

"Because you don't love me," Emma reasoned.

"Because everyone who loves me dies a horrific and painful death."

"No, Henry loves you."

"That was a poor choice of an example," Regina cringed, "considering he nearly died from poison."

"I _know_ you at least don't hate me… even though we joke about it."

"Take a look around this town, Emma. It's the people I hate who seem to thrive. You should only hope I hate you. It guarantees you a happy ending."

"So you're going to hate me to protect me? Or something?"

"That's the thing, I _can't _make myself hate you—so I hope you've prepared a will. And if there's any way you could not leave Henry in the custody of your idiot parents…."

"Stop, that's not even funny."

"I can assure you I am not joking. I'm _toxic_."

Emma realized it wasn't hyperbole nor was it self-pity, Regina truly believed herself to be poisonous.

"You know Cora couldn't rip my heart out, right? I don't think you need to protect me. I'm pretty strong and I'm not planning to die any time soon."

"Do you think Daniel was planning to die? Or my mother? These things are rarely expected."

"Horrible things aren't going to happen to_ all_ the people you care about."

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Even if I'm not one of them, you_ need_ to know that."

"Please stop; I just said I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay, I'm sorry," the blonde accepted, feeling she had pushed enough boundaries for one evening. "We don't have to talk."

But Emma still felt like she had to _do_ something. So she cautiously approached Regina and embraced her in a hug. She smiled when she felt Regina's cheek resting comfortably on her collarbone.

"I'm sorry I ruined your shower."

"It's fine," Regina pulled away. "Let's just ...let's just go to sleep."

Emma followed instructions and got on what was quickly becoming _her_ side of the bed.

"So, I heard you yelled at Neal today, huh?" She asked, once they were both settled in.

"A little bit. Are you upset that I did?"

"Not at all—actually I kind of wish I could've seen it."

"His face annoys me."

"Well," Emma laughed, "he went running to Mary Margaret about it like a twelve year old—so, you must've scared him pretty good."

"Mission accomplished, then."

A comfortable lull in the conversation left Emma desperately trying to erase the images of Regina's bare body from her mind—but it was proving to be extremely difficult.

"I have an idea," Regina proclaimed, interfering with the savior's less-than-pure thoughts. "Tomorrow night, I won't be home."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not going to tell you—_that's the point_."

"Oh," she realized, "to see if the magic still brings me to you?"

"Exactly."

"That's pretty smart."

"It should at least provide some sort of answer. You, _we_, can't go on like this forever."

"No, I guess not."

_Except a part of Emma knew they could. _

_They could go on like this forever—which was more unsettling to her than the fact that magic subsisted inside of her body. _

"_Goodnight, Emma." _

"_Goodnight, Regina."_

* * *

**Night Seven: 12:18 AM **

Regina stood inside of her hideaway fidgeting with her hands.

She had arrived right after dinner and was getting bored and tired.

The hours had passed by painfully slow; there was nothing to do but pace back and forth – and stare at reminders of her past life.

She was afraid to close her eyes—she was afraid to blink; as if she might miss something the moment she did.

Although, she didn't know_ what_ she was so scared of missing because she was sure Emma wouldn't find her here.

Emma couldn't find her here.

She was sure of it.

_Because if Emma found her here, if Emma showed up, it would shatter all illusions left for them to cling onto. _

But Emma had always been great at proving her wrong. The savior was well adept at succeeding at tasks she was supposed to fail.

And within the hour, she managed to do it again.

_A cloud of smoke nearly stopped the queen's heart from beating. _

"HA!" Emma appeared directly in front of her, "I fucking _knew_ it wasn't the house. I _win_."

She wondered if there was any air left in her lungs—because it certainly didn't feel like it. "This doesn't make sense; it's not possible for you to be here."

"And yet here I am," the sheriff declared victoriously, with her hands on her hips. "What is this place, anyway?"

"Do you even realize how strong magic has to be in order to transport you to a place you've never even seen? That you didn't even know existed?"

"Is that like, not normal?"

"It's unheard of," Regina stated in awe. "You are _way_ more powerful than you know—no wonder you can't get a hold of your magic."

"_We _are more powerful than_ we_ know," Emma corrected.

"What are you talking about?"

"All of this resolves around _you_. You're like a magnet for me or something. Without you, my magic doesn't even work. I mean, not like this…"

"Don't say things like that."

"Okay," the blonde sarcastically agreed. "By all means, let's just keep pretending this means nothing of significance."

_Tonight, it was Regina's turn to be speechless. _

_Because this night was supposed to be the end of the madness, the insanity__._

_But insanity was just beginning. _

"And are you ever going to tell me where we are?" Emma continued. "Am I even still in Storybrooke?"

"Yes, we're beneath the mausoleum. I needed a place to keep some of my things from fairytale land."

"That's extremely creepy. And these dresses are extremely ridiculous."

"It's the only place I genuinely thought you wouldn't be able to find me."

"Did you really wear this crap on a daily basis?"

"Of course I did—need I remind you I was Queen?"

"You need _not_ remind me. But I don't think it's really fair that you have this awesome hiding place that you weren't sharing."

"If I shared, then it wouldn't be a hiding place. Would it?"

"Well, now that I know about it you have to share. I can hide out here when Mary-Margaret gets on my nerves."

"So I should just hand over the key then?"

"Pretty much," Emma agreed, before lowering her voice. "I still love her, you know—despite how annoying she may be."

"Of course you do. I loved my mother until the bitter end."

"I know you did."

"This is actually where she first found me when she came back to Storybrooke."

"Yeah?"

"She pretended to be Henry so I would let her in. Then she apologized for forcing to me to get married at seventeen years old," Regina explained, wondering why she was suddenly in a sharing mood.

"She used Henry against you?"

"She was always good as using the people I care about against me, yes."

"That's really fucked up."

"As was ripping my fiancés heart out of his chest, but she thought she knew what was in my best interests."

"I hope you know you deserve better than everything you've been given in life."

_It was the first time anyone had ever said it out loud. The first time it had ever been acknowledged in the light of day. The first time someone had expressed the feeling she always had inside of her. It was the first time she believed it might be true. _

"The same goes for you, dear."

Emma's eyes scanned the room, still drinking in her surroundings. Regina's eyes scanned Emma's face, still drinking in her presence.

And then their eyes met in a powerful, locked stare.

"Regina," the savior tried again, "what does it mean that I found you here?"

"I don't know."

_But she did know. _

_She knew. _

_And Emma knew, too. _

"How long are we going to ignore it for? How long are we going to dance around it?"

"A little bit longer," Regina begged. "I'm not ready."

"Okay," Emma accepted.

_They had their answer._

_That didn't mean they were going to face it. _

"Are you planning on staying here tonight?"

Regina nodded.

"Is there room for me on the couch?"

Regina nodded again.

When Emma sat down next to her, Regina grabbed her hand.

_Because she wasn't strong enough for this._

_And if she didn't hold on to something she was sure the room would spin out of control._

_She would never be strong enough for this._

_Not again._

Emma rested back on the couch, pulling Regina along with her.

"_Goodnight, Regina." _

"_Goodnight, Emma."_

* * *

**Night Eight 2:29 AM**

Regina sat in her study, there was no use trying to sleep. Nowadays she spent her evenings taking silent bets with herself about when Emma would show up.

_At first the visits had been an annoyance. _

_They had turned into a source of pleasure. _

_Now they made her slightly nervous. Because Emma was persistent with the one subject she didn't want to deal with. _

The all-too-familiar purple smoke appeared along with the savior. Tonight, she was in jeans and a t-shirt_, _her hair tied back into a pony-tail.

"We have a problem," Emma stated frantically.

"What is it, dear?" She stood up immediately.

"I almost…I almost hurt someone today—_with magic_."

"How? What happened?"

"I got into it with Neal. He was pissing me off and, I swear to you, I only glanced in his direction and my magic sent him flying into the wall."

"Quite frankly I don't see the issue. That's not magic, that's _karma_."

"I know, okay? But I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to walk around like some magical time-bomb never knowing when I'm going to just turn into a human weapon. I mean, what if someone annoys me at work and I send _them_ flying into a wall? What kind of sheriff would I be then?"

It was Emma's do-or-die moment. Regina had, herself, once uttered those same words_. I don't want to hurt anyone._ Magic could be good or it could be evil. Emma Swan was good to the core.

"Emma, it's okay—you _can_ control it. I will help you, alright?"

"_How_?"

"I think your issue could very well be that you panic. When you start to feel the magic, you panic. You cannot do that or it will take over."

"I don't know how to _not_ panic—because it freaks me out."

Regina thought about how to help—and the only way she could think of was by _doing,_ by showing_. _

"I need you to try something for me."

"What?"

"I need you to think of the angriest you've ever been in your entire life—and then I need you to picture that exact moment. I need you to relive those feelings."

Emma shut her eyes tightly and clenched her fists.

"Do you feel the spark?" The queen asked as she watched. "The magic?"

"Yes," Emma inhaled. "I do."

"Now, _don't_ freak out; just listen to my voice. I won't let anything happen to you. Don't let it take over—_you_ take over. Picture that energy physically traveling to your palm."

"Okay," the savior followed instructions, and ball of purple smoke subsequently appeared on top of her hand.

"Good," she praised. "Next, open your eyes and aim it at me—make me levitate."

"No," Emma objected. "What if I hurt you?"

"Look at me; I promise you _won't_."

"How do you know that?"

"Just focus on what you want to do. You're not going to hurt me."

Emma opened her eyes and aimed her magic at Regina; the brunette's body promptly lifted into the air. She smiled at the shocked look on Emma's face. The sheriff lowered her hand, and Regina descended back to the ground.

"I did it," Emma whispered.

"See? You just have to be more powerful than the magic. It's not that hard—it's just overwhelming at first. You're not used to it and you were scared. I was scared once, too."

"And you think that will work whenever I get emotional? I can just overpower it?"

"As strange as it sounds, it's like learning to ride a bike or drive a car—when you realize you're the one who is in charge it all becomes a lot easier."

"Thanks," the sheriff lowered her shoulders, releasing her tension and anxiety. "You're a good teacher."

"I guess this means you'll be able to sleep in your own bed again."

"I guess so," Emma confirmed. "But, um…I think that….I think I…"

Regina's recognized what Emma was doing: _searching for an excuse to stay._

She wanted her to find one. She didn't want Emma to leave.

Without thinking, she engulfed Emma in a cloud of smoke, magically changing her into pajamas. "You're already in your pajamas; you might as well stay the night."

"Yeah, that seems like the only logical thing to do."

_One more charade._

_One more night._

They got into bed.

Regina turned off the light.

Emma's arm once more found its way to her waist.

"_Goodnight, Emma." _

"_Goodnight, Regina."_

* * *

**Night Nine: 8:33 PM**

Emma hadn't seen Regina in four days.

And it was killing her.

She felt like she had so much to tell her.

She wanted to see the woman who had become her best friend.

She wanted to see the woman she loved.

_She knew she loved Regina. She had come to terms with it. She had accepted it. _

_She didn't know what it meant for her life, for her family, for their son. _

_But she knew it was true. _

Nonetheless, Regina had specifically said she wasn't ready—and Emma thought it was best to respect that.

From the bits and pieces she knew about Regina's past, she wanted to make sure not to push too hard.

She just wanted to do the right thing.

She walked into her own bedroom, which now seemed so small in comparison to the mayor's room. Her attention was drawn to her bed, where noticed a box wrapped in a gold ribbon.

She opened it, assuming it was a gift from one of her parents.

What she found inside, however, was the now infamous blue silk pajamas.

A small note sat on top of them. It read: _yours to keep._

Emma stuck her head out of her room.

"Mary-Margaret, did Regina come by here today?"

"No," her mother replied. "Why?"

"No reason."

She closed the door behind her and walked back over to the bed. She laughed at the notion of Regina sneaking into the apartment with magic.

She thought this was as much of an invitation as she was ever going to get.

She closed her eyes and took control just like Regina had taught her.

She pictured their reunion.

_It worked without a hitch._

* * *

Emma landed, on her feet, on the top of Regina's staircase.

_The same place it had all started. _

The hallway was dark except for a single light illuminating from underneath the bathroom door. It was quiet—except for sporadic, quiet sobs.

Emma's heart sank in her chest; Regina was in the bathroom crying.

She ran to the door and aggressively knocked. "Regina? Are you okay?"

The weeping stopped—but there was no reply.

"Let me in or I will use magic to get in there myself."

The door swiftly opened and a disheveled mayor appeared before her. "I created a monster, I see," Regina teased, clearly trying to downplay her current state.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I'm not," the queen insisted, despite the tear-stains on her face.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Shall I answer that honestly?"

"_Hey_," Emma warned, "cut the shit and tell me what's going on."

Regina glanced down at her feet; the savior was petrified of what she was going to say. She didn't know what to expect—but for some reason she always expected the worse.

"I don't know; this house is too damn big for just one person."

"Regina," she grinned, gently lifting the mayor's chin up, "I miss you, too."

"I can't sleep alone anymore."

"Trust me, I know."

"You made me attached to you being here all the time. Everything is too quiet now. I hate it."

"I'm attached, too."

"It's all your fault; you and your stupid magic."

"So, do you basically just need to yell at me? Would that help?"

"Maybe later, yes."

"Okay, well…the offer stands as long as you need it."

Regina's facial expression softened. "_You_ miss me?" She asked, as if she had just processed the statement.

"Of course I do. That's why I came here in the first place."

"It is?"

"Are you ready yet?"

"I don't know what I'm ready for, I just know I'm not ready for whatever this is to be over."

"I think you were right—I think the magic knew what my heart wanted, even when my mind didn't. I never would've known you like I do now if it hadn't brought me here."

"You think you know me?"

"Yeah—I think we know each other."

"There's a lot you still don't know."

"You take care me; we take care of each other."

"There's a lot I still haven't told you."

_There were things Emma suspected. About Regina's relationship with Cora. About her marriage to King Leopold. About the things she once did as the Evil Queen. And she wanted to know. She wanted to know it all. _

"I'm sure there's a lot left for us both to learn."

"You'll run, eventually."

"I didn't even last four days without you."

"Do you miss me because you think you're supposed to because of the magic? Or because you _actually_ do?"

"Honestly, shut the hell up already. No more excuses."

"_What?" _

"It's just—it's game over, alright? I know it's scary; I'm fucking scared, too. But it's like you told me about the magic—_we_ are in control of what happens to us. I don't know if the magic brought me here because I already wanted to love you, or if being here because of the magic gave me the opportunity to fall in love with you—and I don't even really care. I just know I love you. Is that okay with you, or not?"

"Okay," Regina softly smiled, "_I'm ready_."

And before Emma knew what was happening, Regina closed the gap between them and kissed her.

_All of the magic the savior had previously felt was nothing compared to the power of their lips locked together._

She never wanted them to part.

_She never wanted their magic to stop. _

* * *

**Night five-hundred and sixty-eight: 2:04 AM**

Regina walked into the bedroom, exhausted from the night's surreal events.

"Is finally Henry asleep?" Emma asked. "Please say, yes?"

"I think so," she confirmed. "But he clearly shouldn't have had _four_ sodas."

"Yeah, that was my bad. He felt left out of the champagne toasts so I just kept giving him soda instead."

"I suppose that's acceptable for tonight."

"Did _you_ have fun?"

"More than I expected to," Regina confessed as she got under the covers, "yes."

"Thank you for suffering through an engagement party you didn't even want."

"I'm quite certain it won't be the last event I have to suffer through because of your family."

"Look at you; you're such a little trooper."

"You don't have to remind me, dear. It's amazing I still love you."

"I love you, too," the savior said, before leaning over and kissing her fiancee.

"_Goodnight, Emma."_

"_Goodnight, Regina." _

The queen glanced down at the diamond ring sitting on her finger_, _the one she never took off.

She knew that she would suffer through anything and everything for Emma Swan.

And they would, undoubtedly: suffer and struggle.

They already had.

They struggled through telling the Charmings about their relationship.

The suffered judgmental stares from Storybrooke's residents.

They struggled explaining it all to their son.

Their relationship was anything but easy. But it didn't matter.

Everything had changed for them. But, in some ways, nothing had changed at all.

_Emma was still exactly where she belonged. _

_On her side of the bed._

_Her landing spot._

_In the midst of their happy ending. _


End file.
